


Thank you, Henry

by ArcheaMajuar



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye feels alone without Henry and also without Trapper. The company and comfort will come from somebody, he really didn't expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank you, Henry

**Author's Note:**

> This is my FIRST fiction in ENGLISH. I'm from Czech republic, so English isn't my native language and I know, it's far from perfect. I'll be glad for your comments and also advice, what I should improve. Enjoy :)
> 
> I have written some (ok, many... more than many) slash stories in Czech including on Mulcahy/Hawkeye ship, so... if you are interested in another translation, please, let me know :)

I wanted to cry. I wanted to shout. I wanted to burst out from anger. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t able to shed tears anymore, my voice wasn’t able to raise. My grief was too overhelming, my desperation didn’t let me do anything at all.

The feeling of loneliness got me completely. Trapper was gone, Frank was comforting Hot Lips in her tent… and what about me? Solitude and silence laughed at my face. Why did it had to happen? Why such a genuine man had to… end like this… in the sea of Japan?

“Why?” I whispered into the darkness.

I was miserable without will to live this fucked up life anymore.

I finished another martini and in a hurry left Swamp. I couldn’t stay here. Everything was there too painfull, too living, too… it was too much. Just so much memories.

But I had no place to go. The peace and quiet were surrounding me, soldiers were grieving in their tents.

You’re alone, Hawkeye…

An astringent feeling around my heart didn’t want to vanish. I walked without thoughts where to… I just didn’t think about it, I didn’t care, the world for me suddenly lost its purpose. Maybe therefore I left the camp and sat at the tree, where I was vulnerable in case enemy came here. I wasn’t able to get that, my life had no value now. I was more interested in life, which had been lost today…

“Why, Henry… Why?” I said, gritted teeth, then put head on my knees. Still nothing. Crying is helpful, but mine… mine cry let me waiting, aiching for it. I again didn’t shed a single tear.

Some steps were approaching, but my curiosity wasn’t here. I really didn’t care. My friend was gone and here I am… waiting for a cry and indifferent to possible danger.

The man approached me and stand in front of me, than sat nearby.

“I’m glad I found you. I was afraid of you,” I heard familiar voice, untypically touched by grief. No, that his voice was always happy and cheerful, but… so depressed has never been.

„What are you doing here, Father?“ I asked incoming man of cloth. „If you’re looking for anybody confession needing, the adress is wrong.“

„No, Hawkeye, I just… I was looking for some company,“ he caught me off guard with the honesty of his answer. I looked at him with a question in my eyes. „And I thought, that you may feel the same way. But if I’m wrong, I will leave you alone.“

He started to raise onto his feet, but I without hesitation grabbed him by an arm and made him to sit again. Mulcahy’s presence… I usually could appreciate it, although I have never understood, why he is able to appreaciate mine. I’m a jerk, womanizer, drinker… and he is a priest. Clean, innocent messenger of God.

„Are you ok, Father?“

„I have been better, Hawkeye,“ I received a sad smile. „I don’t get it.“

„Me neither,“ I let my head lay on the top of my knees, face towards my companion. In the moonlight I saw similar emotions eyes like I felt.

„I prayed for him, for his safe flight, nevertheless…“ his voice died in his throat. I layed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. I was still looking at him, into his face and the eyes again met mine.

They were… such alike mine, I felt how the grief and desperation are common for both of us, how we shared our sadness. I noticed, that tears started to fall from my eyes.

From my hand on his shoulder… it wasn’t so far from a hug. I fell onto grass and burrowed face into his neck. He didn’t push me away. My silent cry suddenly evolved and I was sobbing than. I cried for Henry, for all my of my pacients, who I couldn’t safe, cried for the peace I was aching painfully…

Light touches in my hair were comforting me as same as movements of his torso, on which my head was lying now.

„Thank you,“ I whispered and faced him.

„Anytime, Hawkeye,“ he touched me again and I noticed, that he looks also better. I watched, how his other hand were approaching my face and how the tender fingers wiped out the wetness of my cheek. I was… appalled. I didn’t expected something so confidential. Another tears left my eyes, I couldn’t stop them.

It had been said, that it’s nearly impossible for an ordinary p to touch something inside of a cynic, but one… one unordinary man managed it.

Teadrops hit my cracked lips, slightly opened because of worse funtion of my nose during crying. I felt the taste of clean air on my tongue, it was pleasent, but I somehow started to want more…

I couldn’t stand the look of Father’s eyes, I slowly, centimeter by centimeter closed the distance between us. In his sight I saw lasting sorrow, but also devotion, kindness and understanding.

I softly placed my lips onto his and pulled back. It could be only an another way of thanking him, more intimate, than I was able to express by my words.

And it could end here… if our heart weren‘t so hurting and out will to heal them so unrelenting.

The arms were suddenly around my hips, and my lips found his. Father’s hands were rubbing my back, the pair of mine dared to get under the layer of black t-shirt. Every touch cured our aching souls.

My last memory, before my mind fell into the storm of passion, belonged to Henry. I thanked Henry for everything he did and didn’t, and I felt, that he send us in return calming, but little bit heart shivering symphony, which may be played only by two pairs of hands and two mouths…

 

 

 

Thank you, Henry.


End file.
